


It's Only Me

by likehandlingroses



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: (okay more like canon plausible), Canon Compliant, F/F, Kissing, M/M, Yule Ball, Yule Ball Adjacent events, this probably happened because I've seen Love Actually too many times
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-09
Updated: 2019-05-09
Packaged: 2020-02-28 21:45:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,199
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18764851
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/likehandlingroses/pseuds/likehandlingroses
Summary: On the night of December 25th, 1994, five pairs of friends stumble upon their first kiss.





	It's Only Me

Ernie couldn’t understand why no one had asked Hannah to the Yule Ball; if most boys had any taste at all, she would have had her pick of offers. As it was, they all seemed to be chasing the same half dozen girls. 

A sorry affair, Ernie thought. And most unfortunate for Hannah.

However, that didn’t mean there wasn’t a silver lining to be had.

“We’ll go as a group,” he assured Hannah two nights before the ball. “You and me and Justin.”

But despite his light tone, Hannah raised an eyebrow.

“Why don’t you just ask Justin to go with you properly?” she asked pointedly.

“I’m not sure what that has to do with anything,” Ernie had stammered. “I mean, of course if you don’t want to go with us, then--”

“--it’s not that I don’t want to...never mind,” Hannah sighed.

On the night of the Yule Ball, she entered the boys’ dormitory and plopped onto Justin’s bed, smoothing out her coral dress robes.

“Would it hurt you to even pretend to care about walking in on people?” Zacharias Smith whined, though he was already dressed and only tying up the laces of his dress shoes. Hannah ignored him.

“Are you two nearly ready?”

Ernie nodded distractedly; he was still fixing his hair in the mirror. Justin--who was busy fussing over a scuff on his right heel--looked up at Hannah.

“Ernie and I can catch up,” he said. Panicked, Ernie caught Hannah’s eye in the mirror; however, he could tell in an instant that she wasn’t going to do what he wanted.

“Okay,” she replied, standing up. “I’ll see you there, then.”

She traipsed out of the room before Ernie could so much as sneeze. Only a minute later, Zacharias followed.

His shoes now scuff free, Justin straightened up and began fixing his collar. The deep purple robes were a bit longer than what was fashionable. But Justin couldn’t be expected to know that, after all. Ernie certainly wasn’t going to tell him.

No one with any sense would be looking at Justin’s ankles, anyway, Ernie thought. Not when he’d grown half a foot over the summer and had finally learned how to style his curls.

“Ready, then?” Justin said, eyeing Ernie through the mirror. Ernie paused, comb in hand, and turned to look at Justin, who smiled encouragingly.

“It looks nice the way you have it,” he said.

“Does it?”

Justin nodded. “Now, let’s get there before Hannah loses her head.”

Hannah, as it turned out, had been doing just fine without them.

“Dean’s asked me to dance later,” she said, her pink face managing only the bare minimum of an apologetic expression. “So I told him I would. And I might...sit with him, if that’s okay?”

“Oh, of course!” Justin and Ernie said together.

“Are you sure?” Hannah asked, halfway out of her seat. “I know we were going to do a group thing, but--”

Justin and Ernie wouldn’t hear it, talking over each other to insist that she go sit with Dean:

“--that’s fine--”

“--Dean’s always been a nice chap--”

“--I thought it was odd he hadn’t found a date--”

“--figures he’d be waiting to ask you.”

Hannah, whose whole face was flush with excitement, beamed at them.

“Okay!” she said, standing up. “I’ll see you later!”

And without waiting for a response, she tumbled over to a table where Dean, Seamus, and Lavender were already sitting.

“Well, good for her,” Ernie said with gusto, privately wishing he’d planned more for this eventuality.

He and Justin found seats next to Neville, who’d taken Ron’s sister, Ginny. They were pleasant enough company; the trouble was Ron himself, who was sulking next to Padma Patil. Ernie didn’t understand it--Padma was nice as anything, and very pretty--but he ignored the tension through dinner as best he could.

When the music started, Ernie and Justin made their excuses and hurried off to fetch drinks. As they waited in line, a girl Ernie didn’t know started talking to Justin. Ernie looked back at the table they’d been sitting at, his brow furrowing.

Ron and Padma were still there, and they still looked desperately unhappy.

It didn’t matter that Padma was nice. It didn’t matter, even, that Ron was acting supremely ungrateful for having a date at all. The trouble was, he obviously hadn’t asked the person he wanted to ask, and now he was stuck being miserable.

Ernie hadn’t reached miserable yet, but it was only a matter of time before someone else snatched Justin up and pushed him over the edge.

He couldn’t have that. Not without knowing he’d tried.

“Can we talk outside?” he shouted over the music as soon as the girl left.

Justin nodded, wide eyed, handing him a butterbeer as they strode out of the Great Hall into the gardens. The secluded benches and corners were quickly filling up with couples wanting a moment of privacy, but Ernie found a perfectly acceptable spot behind a rose bush. There wasn’t a bench, but the flower bed on the wall had a sturdy stone edge to perch on.

Ernie took a deep breath before speaking, rolling his shoulders back.

“I have to confess something,” he said, and Justin cocked his head to one side. His drink was shaking in his hand. “When I told you and Hannah that we should go as a group, what I really wanted was to have a way to go with you...without having to ask. And I realize--of course--that’s an awful trick to--”

“That’s what I told Hannah I wanted to do!” Justin interrupted. “I mean...I did at first. But I changed my mind. That’s why I told her to leave without us. I couldn’t make her spend the night sitting between us.”

Ernie--who was so excited by Justin’s confession he could shout--nodded seriously.

“Though, to be fair, it’s not as if we made her,” he said. “I mean, no else had asked her, so it’s not as if we were keeping her from anything.”

“Of course not,” Justin said. “But it’s not...ideal.”

“No, not ideal at all,” Ernie said, hoping that was the end of feeling sorry for Hannah. She had--after all--done well for herself.

They both took a sip of butterbeer at the same time and fell into silence. Justin looked over at Ernie.

“So you really wanted to go with me?”

“Yes.”

Justin smiled. “Well that’s...that’s good, then.”

Ernie opened his mouth to agree with Justin, but a “yes, quite” sounded like the sort of thing that would land them right back in awkward silence.

They were too good of friends to bother with that nonsense.

“Can I kiss you?” he blurted out.

Justin’s hands tightened around his drink so hard that Ernie was sure he’d break it. “Now?”

“We don’t have to,” Ernie said, his cheeks going pink. “It’s only that….well, we know each other fairly well by now, so I thought we could...skip ahead a bit.”

Justin’s teeth grazed his bottom lip.

“Okay,” he said. “Sure.”

He leaned forward, eyes darting down to Ernie’s lips. Ernie, heart thudding, moved towards him with enthusiasm. He’d imagined his first kiss so many times...and for many months now he’d been sure it would be with Justin. All he had to do was close his eyes and open his heart and let the universe put the rest together--

“Ow!” Justin exclaimed as Ernie crashed into his nose.

‘“I’m sorry--”

“What’d you go barrelling in with your eyes closed for?” Justin said, laughing.

Ernie thought he might start crying, but he puffed out his chest and braced himself for the possibility that he’d just ruined things with Justin before they’d begun.

“I thought that’s what you were supposed to do,” he said, hating how his voice shook. Justin, still rubbing his nose, shook his head.

“You have to check where you’re going first.”

“I did...I thought,” Ernie said, his shoulders sinking. Of all the things he’d worried about...this part hadn’t been one of them. This part was supposed to be a given, if everything else went well.

“It really doesn’t matter,” Justin said. “We can try again...here…”

He reached out his hands to take Ernie’s face, his own hovering just a few inches in front of Ernie’s nose.

“Just...keep your head still, and I’ll come to you,” he murmured. “You can close your eyes.”

Ernie obeyed, shutting them tight. He felt certain he should be doing something with his hands, but he didn’t want to try anything else that might spoil things, so he kept them firmly at his sides.

“Your lips don’t have to be so stiff, you know,.” Ernie could feel Justin’s breath on his face. “Just keep them little bit open...there you go...and I’ll just…”

Ernie felt Justin’s lips press against his, softly and just for a moment. Ernie leaned forward, his eyes still closed. Justin took the hint; the next kiss was longer, and Justin pulled Ernie’s face into his.

This was how it was supposed to feel, Ernie thought, one of his hands moving to Justin’s thigh. And it was no wonder everyone wanted to do it so much.

“That alright?” Justin whispered. Ernie nodded, opening his eyes to find Justin smiling.

“Now you try,” Justin said.

“Just...what you did?” Ernie stammered, holding out a shaking hand to take Justin’s cheek.

“It’s only me, Ern,” Justin said, closing his eyes.

“Right,” Ernie said, his eyes tracing a path to Justin’s lips. “Of course.”

He stopped when his lips were just over Justin’s, and he made his final calculations. Only then did he close his eyes, praying with everything he had that his lips would find their target.

They did, and Justin hardly got in a “that’s it,” before Ernie was onto his next try.

They soon lost track of who was kissing who, and Ernie certainly couldn’t remember whose fault it was the next time they crashed into each other. It didn’t matter much, he soon found out.

Things didn’t need to be perfect to feel just right.

* * *

It would have been worse to miss the ball entirely; Ginny knew that. She’d gotten to wear real, proper dress robes for the first time. Play with make-up. Dance with a boy...well, she’d danced with Neville, who she didn’t fancy in the slightest...but it was a solid start, for being thirteen.

Still, she couldn’t pretend that it wasn’t overwhelming, being around students who were almost all older than she was. Neville was doing his best to include her, to make her comfortable, but by the time ten o’clock rolled around, all she really wanted to do was go to bed.

“I’m going to get some air,” she told Neville. He offered to go with her, but she insisted he stay and finish talking with Eloise Midgen.

“If you ask her to dance, she’ll say yes,” she added in a low voice.

Neville blushed furiously, and Ginny made her exit. The evening air was chill, but she preferred that to the heat of the dance hall.

“Hello, Ginny,” came a voice, low to the ground. Ginny twirled around to find Luna Lovegood sitting on the stone walkway, her back leaning up against the wall. Under the moonlight, the garish orange of her dress robes looked almost subtle and refined.

“Hi, Luna,” she said. “You look really pretty.”

“Thank you.” Luna smiled as Ginny sat down on the ground next to her. “You don’t have to sit here.”

From up close, Ginny could see that Luna’s eyes were swollen from crying.

“What’s wrong?” Ginny didn’t know Luna very well--and what she did know mostly made her want to laugh--but back when he’d been in school, Percy had told her to be kind.

“Between you and me,” he’d said, “she’s had a wretched time of it in Ravenclaw. Penny’s at her wits end trying to get people to stop teasing her about...well...just set an example, won’t you?”

Ginny had done her best, though it was difficult to find common ground with someone like Luna. At the very least, she tried to include her in class, to partner with her when no one else would. Maybe they’d never be very good friends, but it was something, at least.

“Nothing’s wrong,” Luna said stiffly. “Who are you here with?”

“Neville Longbottom,” Ginny said, not pushing against the change in subject. “He’s a fourth year.”

“Was he nice to you?” Luna asked, staring right at her with those wide eyes that still unsettled Ginny if she looked at them too long.

“He’s really nice,” she said. “What about you? How’d you get in?”

“I thought he was my friend,” Luna murmured. “But he was just trying to make another girl upset. I heard him telling her he’d kissed me--which is a lie--and I told her so.”

“Did she believe you?”

Luna nodded, twisting one of the many rings on her fingers. “He thought it would be funny to make up a story, that’s all.”

Ginny forgot, sometimes, how nasty some boys--some people--could be. Her brothers had plenty of faults, but they’d never think of doing anything so cruel.

“It's not funny at all.”

Luna’s lip was trembling, but she attempted a smile.

“I think it’s a little bit funny. Only because I’d never, ever kiss him,” she said. “And he doesn’t know that.”

Ginny laughed. “Boys always think every girl wants to kiss them.”

“It’s because they’re entitled,” Luna said. “That’s what I think, anyway.”

Then she turned her whole body so she was facing Ginny. “Can I tell you something?”

“Sure,” Ginny said, taken aback.

“I don’t think I’ll ever kiss a boy.”

“Of course you will!” Ginny said. “There’ll be someone who’s just right for you, and--”

“--oh, I know all that,” Luna interrupted. “But when that happens, it’ll be a girl.”

“Oh.”

Ginny contemplated Luna’s confession before asking the most sensible question she could think of:

“What kind of girl, do you think?”

Luna shrugged. “Just a nice one, I suppose.”

“But she’d have to be pretty,” Ginny argued. “Like Gwenog Jones. Well, maybe she doesn’t have to be _that_ pretty...”

Luna frowned. “Who?”

“No one,” Ginny said hurriedly. She didn’t fancy telling Luna Lovegood about her Gwenog Jones kissing dreams.

“I think you start believing someone’s pretty after you get to know them,” Luna said. “Like how I think you’re the prettiest girl in the whole school, but probably that’s because you’re the only one who’s nice to me.”

Ginny swallowed, grappling with the fact that Luna had just casually confessed several things that anyone else would have kept close to their chest. A part of her wanted to laugh. Another part wanted to run away.

But a third part wanted to know just a little bit more.

“Everyone should be nice to you,” Ginny said. “I’m sorry people aren’t.”

“I’m used to it, mostly.” Luna looked up at the sky, and Ginny followed her eyes up to the stars.

It would be nice to kiss a girl, she thought. She’d like to kiss boys too, just to see what her options were. But she did want to kiss at least one girl--even if it wasn’t Gwenog Jones.

And Luna was awfully sweet.

“If you wanted,” Ginny said, “we could kiss. Just for fun.”

Luna’s head snapped down from its stargazing.

“I’m not ready to kiss anyone,” she said, her voice panicked.

Ginny, feeling ridiculous, crossed her arms across her chest.

“It’s cold,” she murmured. “I’m going to go back inside. I’ll see you later, Luna.”

As she stood up, Luna scrambled to join her.

“Are you going to dance?”

“No, I’ll probably just go to bed,” Ginny said, not meeting her eye. She couldn’t believe she’d asked to kiss Luna Lovegood...and been turned down.

“I can walk with you,” Luna offered. Ginny nodded, and they walked wordlessly back to Gryffindor Tower.

Just before they reached the entrance, Luna stopped in her tracks.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t ready,” she said. “But it’s very nice of you to offer. I think if I was ready, I’d have said yes.”

“That’s okay,” Ginny said. “I’m probably not ready, either.”

Gwenog Jones dreams or no, she was still only thirteen.

“I could kiss your cheek,” Luna said brightly. “That’s something friends do.”

Ginny bit back her amusement, nodding her head. “Sure.”

Luna’s lips were soft on her cheek, and the hand that brushed up against her shoulder tickled Ginny’s skin in a way that made her stomach jump in excitement. She could smell Luna’s light, flowery perfume as Ginny moved to return the gesture.

She wanted to kiss Luna properly. She wanted it more than she’d realized until even a moment before.

But if Luna wanted to wait, she could do that, too.

* * *

 

Ten minutes until midnight. Of course, Percy would still need to linger and ask about where everyone was heading off to for a few more drinks…the Yule Ball was the exact sort of event he’d always been told to look out for: a room filled with influential people with nothing to worry about but where they were going to find their next drink. It was an opportunity you couldn’t buy.

Well, _some_ people could, he thought bitterly. Just not him.

However, Percy had been receiving quite a lot of opportunities over the past few weeks, with Mr. Crouch taking time for his health. _Quite_ a lot. More than he’d really expected to have, all at once. More than he really had time for, actually.

He wanted to be as impressive as he hoped Mr. Crouch thought he was. He wanted to stop being at the bottom rung of the ladder. He wanted to find a way to prove that this was what he was meant to do with his life.

He also really, really wanted to sleep.

Still, what was one or two more hours at the Three Broomsticks? He could manage that. He’d have to, in fact, if he wanted to get anywhere in this world.

He approached the raucous cluster of people around Ludo Bagman, stopping in his tracks when he heard Ludo exclaim:

“Well, of course, my money’s always been on Puddlemere, ever since I was young. A solid team, every season.  But what a disappointing start they’ve had this year...real shame about Reynolds…”

Percy’s stomach twisted into a knot: he’d completely forgotten to meet with Oliver that evening.

They made arrangement weeks ago. Percy had scribbled it in his planner and everything. He could see the entry now: _December 25th, seven o’clock. Oliver--his parents’ house. Bring something! (Wine?)_

He’d stared at it every day for three weeks: how could he have forgotten?

If it had been anyone else from school, Percy might not have cared so much, but Oliver was particularly difficult to schedule time with. And, being Percy’s roommate for seven years, he was especially missed in Percy’s day-to-day life. He hadn’t realized how much it had helped, sharing everything with Oliver when they’d been in school.

He loved his job, and he loved being able to come home to his parents every evening. But there was something lonely about it all, not having someone his age to talk to.

All thoughts of staying past midnight left him; Percy went through the final motions, quietly excusing himself at the earliest possible minute.

He expected the Woods’ house to be dark when he arrived, that he’d have an excuse to go home and worry about apologizing tomorrow. To his dismay, the porch light was on, and he could hear the chatter of a party as he approached the front door. Before he could knock, someone pulled the door open, and Percy took a tripping step back.

“So you decided to show up.” A muscle was working in Oliver’s jaw.

“I’m terribly sorry, my work schedule changed, and I completely forgot to...tell you,” Percy said, trailing off as he noticed Oliver taking in his dress robes.

“Working hard?” he said dryly. Percy puffed out his chest.

“It was an important social function.”

“Good,” Oliver said, his fingers clenching the doorframe. “That’s great. Well, it was good seeing you, but we’re wrapping things up here, so...Happy Christmas.”

Percy reached out a hand to stop him from closing the door.

“Oliver--”

“It’s fine,” Oliver said, not meeting Percy’s gaze. “Look, I’ve got to be up early for training.”

Percy raised an eyebrow, still clutching the door. “On Boxing Day?”

“Yes, on Boxing Day,” Oliver said. “You aren’t the only person with things to do.”

“Oliver, dear,” someone called from inside the house. “You’re letting in a draft.”

“Sorry, Mum,” he called back. He looked at Percy before sighing and stepping out of the house, closing the door behind him.

“I know you’re angry,” Percy said. “But I just forgot! Anyone can forget, it’s not as if it’s personal. And I really am sorry.”

Oliver nodded, staring up at the sky and crossing his arms in front of his chest. Then he turned his stare towards Percy.

“How many meetings do you have scheduled for January third?”

Percy blinked. “I beg your pardon?”

“Do you know, right now, how many meetings you’ll have on January third?” Oliver pressed. “I have a feeling you haven’t forgotten any of those.”

Percy scoffed. “Well if I’d forgotten one, I wouldn’t know it, would I?”

“You know what I mean,” Oliver said.

“Well, it’s my job not to forget!” Percy exclaimed, his cheeks turning hot. “And--if you’ll notice--I remembered to meet with you tonight.”

“It’s midnight!” Oliver said, stepping forward. This time, Percy didn’t step back.

“And I’m here!” Percy shouted. His heart was pounding in his chest, and he felt warm all over, despite the chill in the air.

“So?” Oliver challenged, not breaking his stare. He stepped forward again, so they were almost nose to nose. Oliver’s eyes flickered over Percy’s face, pausing for an extra instant on his mouth. And without thinking about it--feeling only a desperate, wild need to prove something to Oliver--Percy grabbed Oliver’s face in both of his hands and kissed him.

It took Oliver a few seconds to react, but once he did, Percy felt a hand pushing on his back, pressing him closer to Oliver’s body. When Oliver pulled back, Percy leaned in for more, but Oliver shifted so he could look Percy in the eye.

“Did you have a lot to drink at this social function?” he asked softly, his brow knit.

“No, no, I just...” Percy fumbled for a way to say what he wanted, but the words wouldn’t come. Maybe he’d used them all up saying stupid things all night. Maybe such feelings weren’t meant to be put into words. In any case, all he could do was shrug.

“I just wanted to..try that,” he finished.

Oliver smiled before closing the gap between them again. This time, the kiss was softer, less hurried, and Percy sunk into it with abandon.

“You want to come in?” Oliver whispered.

“But what about tomorrow?”

Oliver shrugged. “Tomorrow’s Boxing Day.”

* * *

 

Parvati was never going to trust a boy again. Not ever ever _ever._

She'd thought she was safe, going with someone like Harry. Oh, he wasn’t the most mature boy, even in their year...but wouldn’t have pegged him as the sort to just ask the first girl who would take him. And the Beauxbatons boy who’d asked her to dance hadn’t been any better. He’d dropped her the second the girl he really wanted to be dancing with started hanging around

“I could have gone with anyone,” she grumbled to herself, settling into bed.

Hermione and Lavender were still out. But then, they’d gotten dates who actually wanted to spend time with them.

Parvati closed her eyes, still fuming, when the dormitory door swung open wildly before slamming shut.

“He did it!” Lavender cried out, tossing herself onto Parvati’s bed with a shriek. “He did it...I thought he wouldn’t...and he did it!”

“Did what?” Parvati said glumly, rolling onto her side to face Lavender. Her apathy faded when she noticed Lavender’s tears and the way she was shaking. Parvati propped herself up on one elbow, her other hand reaching out to brush Lavender’s hair out of her face.

“It’s okay,” she whispered. “It’s okay.”

Lavender took several shaking breaths and ran her hands across her eyes before sitting up. Parvati joined her so they were both leaning against the headboard, Parvati’s hand still rubbing Lavender’s shoulder.

“We were outside… ”Lavender began, “--just talking--”

“--you and Seamus?”

Lavender nodded.

“And he wanted to kiss, which was fine with me because I wanted to kiss. So we did that for a while, and then he--he--”

“--what?” Parvati pressed, trying to ignore all the horrible possibilities crossing her mind. She didn’t like to think that Seamus was capable of any of them, but you couldn’t ever really trust any boy.

“He left to go get drinks with Dean!” Lavender cried out, bursting into tears again. “He didn’t even ask me if I wanted to go…”

“Oh,” Parvati said, nearly laughing in relief. “Did you want to go?”

“No, I didn’t want to go…” Lavender scoffed. “But after letting him snog me for half an hour, I thought I’d at least be invited.”

“ _Letting_ him?” Parvati said. “Didn’t you like kissing him?”

“It was fine, I guess,” Lavender said, wiping her eyes again. “He just wasn’t very good, that’s all…”

“Oh, Lav, I’m sorry,” Parvati said. And she was. She was also pleased to have someone to commiserate with.

“At least Seamus tried something,” she said. “Harry treated me like I was one of the ice sculptures.”

“But would you have actually kissed him?” Lavender asked, laughing.

“No,” she admitted. “But he should have at least wanted to.”

Lavender nodded. “Boys are rubbish. I’m not ever talking to another one until I’m at least seventeen. Maybe not even then.”

“But I have to snog someone before then…” Parvati lamented. “At least you got a chance.”

“Trust me, you don’t want those sorts of chances,” Lavender said. She looked over at Parvati with a smirk.

“You could kiss me.”

Parvati blinked.

“That’s...no, we can’t do...no.”

Lavender pouted. “Why not? I’ll bet you’re better at it than Seamus.”

“Well, I should hope so,” Parvati joked, though privately she wondered if she could make Lavender any happier than Seamus had. After all, she didn’t have any more experience than he did. Who was to say she wouldn’t be even worse at it?

And what did it matter, anyway? She wasn’t really going to kiss Lavender. Lavender was her best friend. The thought of kissing her hadn’t even occurred to Parvati...well, maybe once or twice. Especially when Lavender wore her hair down and put that mist in it that smelled like roses...but that was just some sort of sensory confusion. That wasn’t--she wasn’t...

“If I’m bad at it, you can’t laugh,” Parvati said. “And you have to tell me! But you can’t laugh.”

Lavender’s eyes widened; perhaps she hadn’t realized that Parvati would say yes. But she recovered quickly, flashing Parvati a smile.

“I won’t laugh,” she said, fixing her eyes on Parvati’s lips. “Just don’t...stick your tongue down my throat, and it’ll be fine.”

Easy enough advice to follow, Parvati thought as she leaned in to catch Lavender’s bottom lip between her own, pulling Lavender towards her and into the kiss.

After a few seconds, Lavender threw her arms about Parvati’s neck, and Parvati knew without asking that she was doing a much, much better job than Seamus.

 

* * *

Sirius scowled up at the ceiling in Remus’s flat. Whoever lived above Remus had decided that two a.m on Boxing Day was a good time to have very loud (and very bad) sex.

“Give it two minutes,” Remus said with a wry smile. Sirius laughed, taking another sip of wine. He was sitting on Remus’s bed--it was more comfortable than the rickety two chairs that accompanied his lamp stand of a kitchen table.

Sirius had already offered to replace everything Remus owned. Twice. While Remus smiled as he refused, Sirius could hear a note of frustration in his voice.

It made sense. Remus was proud of the little he’d managed to make for himself. He had every right to be. With his condition, with the way the world was...he’d done everything he could, and it showed.

But Sirius didn’t like how accustomed Remus had become to doing it all on his own.

Remus hadn’t refused James’s help, Sirius thought darkly. To be sure, James’s money didn’t need to be surreptitiously drawn from an account owned by a convicted mass murderer currently at large...but those were petty details. The main thing was that James had loved Remus, and that had been a good enough reason for Remus to accept his help.

And now he didn’t want Sirius’s help, and it hurt, a little bit. More than Sirius wanted to admit.

“More wine?” Remus asked, reaching out for Sirius’ glass.

“Just one more,” he said. “I’ve got to get to sleep...just have to wait out this racket.”

He gestured to the ceiling, where the uneven creak of bedsprings was accompanied by the occasional disinterested, “oh.”

“Merlin, that is--”

But he was interrupted by the sound of glass shattering as the glass Remus had been pouring for him slipped out Remus’s hand. Remus looked at him apologetically.

“I’m sorry, I’ll…” he trailed off, wincing in pain. Sirius noticed that his hands were tensed up into almost-fists.

“Did you cut yourself?” he asked, standing up and hurrying over. But Remus shook his head, even as Sirius took one of his hands. His fingers were taut and wouldn’t uncurl at Sirius’s prompting. Remus was breathing heavily, and every so often a strangled note of pain came through.

“Here...” Sirius murmured, leading him over to the bed. “Sit...sit down. Has this happened before?”

Remus nodded, his eyes shut tight in pain.

“It’s fine,” he panted. “I’m…”

He cried out as his whole spine went rigid, right up to his shoulders. Sirius caught him up and helped move him onto his side.  

“It’s alright,” Sirius said frantically. “It’s fine...it’s alright. Tell me if it’s not alright, won’t you? It is alright, isn’t it?”

Remus nodded as best he could.

“I’m so sorry,” Sirius murmured under his breath. If this had happened before...Sirius didn’t want to think about those times.

It was only three minutes, all told, but it felt like hours, waiting for Remus’ muscle to relax, for him to let out a sobbing sigh of relief as his fingers uncurled and his sunk back into the mattress.

“I’m sorry,” he said, his eyes closing in exhaustion. “I didn’t mean for you to--”

“What was that?” Sirius asked sharply.

“It’s just a symptom of my condition,” Remus said lightly. “Sometimes my body gets the notion to try and transform when it isn’t supposed to.”

“That never happened when we were in school.” Sirius’s voice was shaking, despite Remus’s cool tone.

“No,” Remus said, opening his eyes. “It’s...degenerative.”

Sirius sighed, rubbing his eyes. Just when he thought he knew how entirely fucked everything was...

“Well, Happy Christmas, then,” he mumbled.

Remus sat up, wincing.

“I’m fine,” he assured Sirius. “It’s all fine. All things considered, I’m doing well. Some people are much worse, thirty years in.”

Thirty years. Sirius could vomit.

“Isn’t there something you can do?” he asked. “Something I can do?”

Remus shook his head, but Sirius knew better than to take Remus at his first word when it came to things like this.

“There’s always something…” he said, his eyes landing on Remus’ hands. “Do they still hurt?”

Without waiting for an answer, he grabbed Remus’ right hand and began working the muscles with his thumb.

“How’s that?” he asked. Remus gave him a smile.

“It’s a massage,” he quipped.

“And it helps, doesn't it?” Sirius said.

Remus gave a noncommittal shrug, though he didn’t protest when Sirius reached for his other hand.

“Just tell me I’m right, Moony,” Sirius said. “It’s Christmas.”

“It’s not Christmas anymore,” Remus said. “But it does help. Thank you.”

Still, Sirius couldn’t stop thinking about the next time this happened. If he wasn’t here, and Remus fell, if he hurt himself...

“I don’t want you to be alone,” Sirius said. “Not if this keeps happening.”

Remus shook his head. “It’s dangerous for you to stay here too long.”

“It’s dangerous for me to be anywhere,” Sirius protested. “And if I’m here, I can help. You need help.”

“I don’t,” Remus insisted, his voice low. “I am perfectly capable of managing my own affairs.”

“You shouldn’t have to! I can’t just let you...it wouldn’t be right, don’t you see that?”

Remus fixed Sirius with a steely expression.

“And it’s not right for me to ask you to stay in my flat with paper thin walls, when everyone knows we’re old friends. So if we’re keeping sc--”

“I’d come whether you asked or not,” Sirius said. “Where else am I going to go? Where else do I have? Who else can I see?”

And Remus--brilliant, cool headed, always rational Remus--didn’t have an answer to that one. His eyes floundered about the room until stopping on the broken wine glass.

“I should clean that up,” he murmured, moving to stand up.

Without knowing why, Sirius pulled Remus back down by the hand he was still holding. He only saw the quickest flash of Remus’s wide eyed expression before pressing his lips against Remus’s. His free hand shot up to cup Remus’s jaw as Remus began kissing him back with fervor.

For someone with such constant, chronic reserve, Remus kissed with a desperation, a roughness, that left Sirius with hardly a moment to breathe. Sirius could taste a warm, metallic hint of blood on Remus’s tongue: he’d bit his cheek, perhaps, when he’d been writhing about, when his body had tried to pull him away from himself.

Then, just as passionately as he’d begun, Remus pulled away.

“I shouldn’t have--”

Sirius shook his head, preempting Remus’s apology. Always an apology, even when Sirius had been the one to start things.

“‘Don’t worry about it,” he sighed. “It’s late, and I just...I was upset, that’s all.”

Remus nodded, pulling out his wand and repairing the wine glass. He stood up and limped back to the counter, where the open wine bottle still sat. Sirius looked down at his hands.

He’d liked kissing Remus. More than he thought he would...not that he’d had much to compare it to. He’d never been one for kissing. The last time he’d tried it, Mary Macdonald had about slapped him for laughing. He’d tried to explain: it had been funny, that was all. Getting so close to someone else’s face and mashing your mouth all over them. The way she’d swallowed half a dozen mints before, as if he’d forget they’d just finished off a box of Chocolate Frogs. All he’d felt the entire time was amusement at the charade of it all.

Perhaps he just hadn’t liked Mary very much, he considered, looking Remus up and down. It was difficult to feel amused about kissing Remus when Sirius recalled how fiercely he had felt beforehand. How desperately he had wanted Remus to...he wasn’t sure exactly what he’d wanted Remus to do. He was even less sure that the kiss had helped with anything. But he’d liked it. That was something

Remus handed him a glass and Sirius took it, downing half of it in one go.

“We’re fools, without him,” Remus murmured. Sirius closed his eyes, pained by the memory of James, and Remus put a hand on his shoulder.

“He’d think it was funny, too,” Remus said, and Sirius laughed in spite of himself.

“We’d never hear the end of it,” he said. “And we’d deserve it, for that…”

A silly thing, kissing. Impractical and inefficient. He’d just forgotten, after all this time. It was to be expected. He’d forgotten he hated green peppers until just last week.

“It’s not as though there’s anything wrong with it,” Remus said.

“No, no...not generally. Just for us...doing it like that...and it was fine,” Sirius hesitated before continuing. “It was good. It’s only that we’re...”

“...exactly.” Remus’s voice was tight, and Sirius saw his lips twitching in amusement. They were in agreement, then, about kissing. No harm done.

But there was something else in the twitching of his lips, too, Sirius realized. Something that reached his eyes and made Sirius swallow back his own smile.

He took another hefty sip of wine.

“We could try it again, though. Just to remind ourselves of how foolish it is, so we don’t keep on doing it.”

As it turned out, he and Remus were once again in total agreement. And no harm done...

  
  
  



End file.
